


Older Than Time

by ashesandflame



Series: Tales of Blood and Water (SKZ Dark Fairy Tales) [4]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Building trust, But like . . . not really?, But sadly loving him is not simple, Changbin just really likes the pretty prince who's come to live with him, Demonic Sleeping Beauty!Hyunjin, Demons, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Romance, Fairy Tale Retellings, Getting to Know Each Other, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Lies, M/M, Magic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Worth Issues, Sleeping Beauty Elements, Slow Burn, Trust, Wholesome Beast!Changbin, Witch Curses, no beta we die like the rose in this story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:33:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27956948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashesandflame/pseuds/ashesandflame
Summary: When Hyunjin agreed to offer himself up to the beast on the hillside castle, he'd expected nothing but anger, and blood, and claw-marks; he had expected to kill or be killed, and he was eager for either. What he got instead was the broken heart of a man, not a beast, and the need--thewant--to put it back together.He just didn't know if hecould, before he was set to sleep forever.ORA princely beast is promised a future of solitude and guilt unless he believes he deserves better; a beastly prince must feel his heart truly break before an eternal slumber overtakes him. Fate said their curses were not meant to be broken--that their destinies were set in stone.What the curses could not have planned for: love, blooming like a rose, in a garden of blood and memories.
Relationships: Hwang Hyunjin/Seo Changbin
Series: Tales of Blood and Water (SKZ Dark Fairy Tales) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1993489
Comments: 6
Kudos: 31





	1. The Start

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah I have no self-control.

“The greatest bliss must suffer long delays. The god of marriage oaths has promised this: The love that comes most slowly, longest stays. This moral’s hard to hear, because it’s true. To even utter it is hard to do.”  
― Charles Perrault, _The_ _Sleeping Beauty_ _in the Wood_

“It seemed to him as if he could not look at her enough, nor muster courage to leave her.” - Barbot de Villeneuve, Gabrielle-Suzanne, _The Beauty and the Beast_

“He declared that he loved her better than he loved himself. His words were faltering, but they pleased the more for that. The less there is of eloquence, the more there is of love.” – Charles Perrault, _The Sleeping Beauty in the Wood_

“Lying on the table was a portrait of herself, set in gold and diamonds, and on the wall, these words: ‘Beauty is Queen here; all things will obey her.’” - Barbot de Villeneuve, Gabrielle-Suzanne, _The Beauty and the Beast_


	2. Prologue

His intentions had been good. In his mother’s absence, so soon after his father’s death, he was meant to ensure the castle’s safety. Never let a wayward soul inside. Keep the land secure just until his mother returned.

Then the old woman, soaked and shivering, had arrived at his door, and no matter how profoundly Changbin had wanted to let her inside, he could not know her intentions. His father had died at the hands of a cloaked figure not unlike the one stood before him. He would not allow someone to dismantle his family any further.

“Get out of here,” he had said in his best impression of his father. “You, you wretched old woman— _get out_.”

He was so sure he had done the right thing. He had defended his home. He had done exactly what Father would have.

And it was the one decision to damn him for life.

The witch had not cursed him outright. She had not laid out for him the details of his damnation, but he would come to learn it either way.

When his mother returned home, she screamed and screamed and _screamed_ , begging him to get away, to spare her. She had sprinted up the steps, slipping every other stride and clawing at the banister. He hadn’t understood—had needed to get close to his mother to make her understand that he was still her little prince. He reached his hand out, smiling. She pushed herself up against the banister, leaned away form his touch.

He could not forget the sound of her falling.

He didn’t watch the staff take away her body but he saw with a perfect clarity how deeply they feared him. Unable to understand how the world saw that which was unclear to him, Changbin walked over to the mirror hung in the entryway.

And oh, how right she had been, to scream at him as if he were a monster.

He did not want to think about how he had lost his father’s nose, nor how his mother’s kind eyes lost their shape. His was a body of hunched bones and violent snarls, now.

He kept a portrait of himself, hung in the back of his wardrobe, to remind himself what he had once looked like. He accepted the loss of his title, and the breaking of his crown, and the fear that painted his everyday life.

What he had trouble accepting, however, was the dainty, ashen prince currently stood on his doorstep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [curious cat!](https://curiouscat.qa/ahgaslayy)
> 
> [twitter!](https://twitter.com/svnsmayday)


	3. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: there is implied/referenced suicide of a character who isn't TECHNICALLY present in the story. There is also a vaguely messy relationship between father and son, but nothing outright

When he awoke from his slumber, he could hardly believe that the ice was gone. For what may as well have been an eternity, icicles had hung form the tops of his lungs; rivers of ice-water had replaced his blood; frost had covered his tongue until he forgot how to talk, or sing, or even whisper. The one thing that had never frozen over, though, was that pesky little soul of his.

Or whatever could constitute as _his_ soul, anyway.

When he opened his eyes, a lush green canopy greeted him. Holding it pinched in the centre was a golden emblem, depicting a horse whose mane was made of fire. He did not recognize the crest, but the flame was enough to make him smile.

He had chosen well.

He sat up in a bed that could have been made of strung-together clouds, gliding his hands across cool sheets. With a grand shiver, he stood from the bed, walking over to the mantle at his right. He struck the steel against the flint as he crouched, smiling wider as he watched the embers catch.

_Heat_. If he didn’t think his infuriatingly mortal hands would char, he would place his hands right in the bright core of the flame, desperate to rid his skin of what remained of the ice.

As his skin warmed, he looked around the room. Hung about the grand windows were webs of crystals the size of raindrops, each of them glinting like mist as they danced in the wind. Below them, grand crystals sat, varying in size and hue. Incense burned at the foot of the bed, though it was dying out with each passing minute. All along the wood panelling of the walls were strips of paper in several different languages, all of them pleas and prayers for recovery.

He cocked his head. Was someone ill?

He rose from his crouch to brush a hand along the mantle. Clean. He turned accusatory eyes on the bed. The sheets were perfectly crisp save for where he’d been sleeping. But . . .

He leaned down to closer inspect the pillows. The one he’d been laying on was completely flattened, shaped to his head and rather sad-looking. The other was obviously recently cleaned and fluffed.

How odd.

Walking over to the window, eager to feel the first-ever breeze on his cheeks, he froze. His stomach lurched and his vision swam, every inch of his body drained of energy.

The _crystals_. Whatever energy rolled off them made him ill, and he was scrambling away from them just as the door to his chambers opened.

The look of unhindered shock on the servant’s face was more than enough to make up for his crystal-centred strife. “Y-Your Highness!”

He’d chosen a _sickly prince?_ Perhaps his choice wasn’t all that desirable.

“Is there a reason you’re yelling like a drunk?”

He was talking out of his rear end, but there was little else to do when he was a shell in a room of history and memories.

“Your Highness,” the servant tried again, “you were little more than dead not even four hours ago! And now you’re up and about, asking—Oh, Gods, His _Majesty_ —he’ll be given quite the fright, I’m sure.” The servant nodded to herself, as if she needed convincing of her own words. “Yes, yes, I should tell His Majesty right away. And then call on the doctor.” She looked up at him, flushed with surprise. “Oh, Your Highness, I know how you’ll hate the idea, but I must as you to take a seat on the bed. I can’t have you fainting and cracking that valuable little head of yours.”

“Before you go,” he said, putting on a show of reluctance as he sat back down on the obscenely soft bed, “what’s my name?”

The servant lost every bit of her colour. “Oh, no, Gods above, _no_ , please say your spirit is still intact—”

“My _spirit_ is perfectly fine,” he snapped. “But I’ve been through quite the ordeal, and I would like to hear my name from a place other than my own mind.”

Little half-truths, slapped together in the hope that no suspicion would be cast upon him. Not yet, anyhow.

“Your Royal Highness,” the servant said softly, equally rehearsed and apprehensive, “Hwang Hyunjin. The last in line for the throne.”

Last _?_ _I couldn’t have made a worse choice . . ._ He bit down on the thought, swallowing it before he could raise any more concern in this small woman.

“Your Highness . . . I really must be getting the royal doctor now.”

Hyunjin—how peculiar, human names—waved his hand in what he thought was a prince’s exasperation. “Yes, yes, get out. I’ve grown tired of you already.”

The servant was all too eager to scurry out of the room. The sweet smell of her fear made up for the annoyance.

As he watched her go, a flash caught his eye. Curious, Hyunjin turned his head.

He barely withheld a gasp when he saw what must be his reflection.

Corporeal forms were of little importance to someone like him—some _thing_ like him—but this one . . . Oh, this one was nothing short of breathtaking. His hair was a rather unusual colour, a pink he’d expect from a rose dipped in a series of stripping chemicals, but he had to admit it was well-suited to the alluring sharpness of this face he wore. Pretty in the face, lethal in the eyes.

Perhaps his choice hadn’t been so rotten after all.

“Hyunjin . . . ?”

A man with the same nose and jaw as Hyunjin’s reflection stood in the threshold of his chambers. _Brother?_ _No, too old to be a brother; humans don’t have eons to reproduce._ _Father? Uncle?_

“It _is_ you,” the man breathed. Sunlight glinted off his crown as he stepped forward. “I didn’t think I would see your eyes again so soon, my son.”

_Father, then_. Hyunjin wore a beatific smile. “I’m happy to be back, Father.”

But he wasn’t out of the woods yet. There were still things he could say to jeopardize the fine balance of acting and honesty he’d honed in the last ten minutes.

The servant who’d left, presumably to retrieve Hyunjin’s father, was loitering in the doorway. When his eyes landed on her, she yelped, scuttling away with her head lowered and a litany of apologies on her tongue.

_Your Royal Highness, Hwang Hyunjin_. Which meant that the man before him was the king.

Perfect.

“I’ve yet to call on the royal doctor,” the king said quietly, though Hyunjin couldn’t understand why; there was no one else in the room save for them. “If I think that announcing your recovery will cause more trouble than you’re worth, I will not waste my breath.”

He had been in this position before: staring down a father-king, made to feel small and broken. Last time, it had resulted in his eternal slumber and countdown branded onto his heart.

Hyunjin was not one to repeat his mistakes.

His pride lashed out as he sunk to his knees, but he gritted his teeth against it. He lowered his head, tweaked his voice _just so_ until it came out in an apologetic melody. “I’m sorry, Father, for any trouble I’ve caused you, and I’m sorry for the shame I’ve brought upon our bloodline.”

The king cocked his head. “And here I thought you had sworn off calling me your father. I suppose nearly dying at your own hands is enough to bring one to one’s senses.”

Hyunjin felt his heart kick in nervousness, and something else for which he had no name. The body he’d stolen seemed to have a much heavier history than he could have imagined.

But he was here now, and the clock was ticking. He only had so much time to lift the curse.

“Come, Prince of Glass. There’s still use to be had in your existence.”

_Prince of Glass . . . ?_

There was no opportunity to ask what the king had meant; he left the room in a flourish of ruby robes and shimmering gold before Hyunjin had even stood up. But no matter. It allowed Hyunjin a moment to better learn his own reflection, trace the line of his jaw and watch the gooseflesh rise up on his skin.

He pulled himself away from the mirror just in time to leave the room and see the king glaring at him, the several feet between them not enough to lessen the heat of his stare. Hyunjin shrugged it off once the king turned around, allowing servants and guards to flock him as he made for wherever the king was leading them.

He never had been very good at knowing when to be afraid.

o.O.o

They ended up in a library whose ceiling was so high as to nearly be shrouded in shadow. Ivory lived in the corner of each shelf, gold and silver tracing the spine of every tome. Hyunjin would think it magical, but his idea of magic was ebony and crimson, screams and song.

He pretended the sight of those books did not pain him.

“I take your apology to mean that you’re finally willing to do as I say,” the king called over his shoulder.

“Of course, Father.” After all, if Hyunjin didn’t agree with the plan, he could just make the king’s death look like an accident. Such were the privileges of a creature like him.

The king spun to face him. “Who are you and what have you done with my son?”

Hyunjin was sent into a frenzy, thinking of any logical way to respond to such a random, _eerily accurate_ question. But then the king turned away, low chuckle booming from his chest. “No matter. I like this version of you so much more.”

With a wave of the king’s hand, a map floated up from an imprint on the table, the primitive lines of their world map turning into mountain ranges and roiling oceans. Two flicks of the king’s fingers brought them to a close-up of what Hyunjin assumed was his kingdom—and, when the crests of royal families came up, Hyunjin saw he was correct: the horse with a mane of flame nickered and neighed in a little burst of magic, the only crest to move.

Again the king enlarged the map, though this time it was on the kingdom which bore no crest. Only a blackened plot of land stared back at him, desolate and bleak.

“This,” the king started, “is Carite. For thousands of years, the Seo bloodline has ruled it justly and kindly. That is, before their son killed the matriarch ten years ago. But you know that.”

For the first time since he woke, Hyunjin was _intrigued_. “Of course.”

“The son has since been punished for his actions, but he . . . _sadly_ still has rule over his land. The kingdom and all the pig-headed citizens that refuse to move away are still under his rule.”

“How is the kingdom to be ruled by a dead prince?” Hyunjin muttered. He hadn’t meant to let that slip.

The king looked at him strangely. “Perhaps brushing lips with death has knocked a few memories loose. The prince was cursed by some now-dead witch. He’s a beast, and responsible for the death of any who travelled onto the plot of his land. Claims himself to be the protector of his mother’s spirit, and his father’s memory. It does not change the fact that he is a monster, and one that must be put down. His people are in need of a ruler.”

Hyunjin was not a stranger to this game. “And you want to make their lives easier by making yourself their king.”

“ _You_ are going to court that thing in the castle, and become the prince regent.” The king swept away the map in swirls of golden wisps and winking glitter. “He either kills you, and I move in to strike him down, or you tame him long enough to drag him back here and forfeit his land for the sake of an alliance.”

_If the kingdom is not completely deserted after ten years_ , Hyunjin thought, _then there must be a reason for their staying._ Of course, not everyone had the luxury to uproot themselves, no matter their detrimental environment, but he knew that there were more players involved.

“So,” Hyunjin said pleasantly, “you’re selling me off to kill or be killed.”

The king brought a hand up to cup Hyunjin’s cheeks, such a loving touch that he wanted to be sick all over the king’s spit-shined boots. “I’m so glad you’ve come back to me smarter, my son.”

Then the touch turned violent and rough, and while Hyunjin did not _prefer it_ , he certainly knew how to better navigate it. “You’ve wasted enough of my bed and food. You tried to take yourself away once, but it will not happen again.” Calloused fingers dug into Hyunjin’s cheeks, sensitive flesh catching on his teeth, and he had to blink away the images of fire and pitch to remind himself of where he was. 

The king let him go, walking to the threshold of the library with that wretched cape of his billowing behind him.

“There will be a carriage out front, my son.” The king paused in the doorway. “No better time than the present to unify our kingdom with another, yes?”

Based on the map he’d seen, Hyunjin would only arrive at the neighbouring kingdom after night fell. Because his cheeks still ached from where he’d been grabbed, Hyunjin didn’t think the king would care.

“Of course, Father. I live to carry out your vision.”

That had been too much of an instinct, written into the lips of the body he wore as well as his own soul. It was as much of a lie as it had always been. Regardless, the king ate it up, nodding in satisfaction as he departed.

Hyunjin looked to the rudimentary map of the world, eyes immediately landing on the kingdom of the beast. A pawn back home, a pawn in this new body. He was never meant to be his own anything.

Hopefully, in sharing walls and home with a monster just like him, that would change.


	4. Chapter 2

It was not hard to tell when they’d crossed over into the land of the beast-prince. As if hands had clapped themselves over his ears, Hyunjin could hear no indication of life beyond the sound of his breathing. The moon was high in the sky now, casting an eerie glow on the otherwise dark town. The market on the edge of the kingdom had maybe three people traversing its streets. Each of them looked at him with abject horror, tossing glances behind them before slipping into shadowed alleys.

Hyunjin was not as put off as he perhaps should have been. If anything, this darkened city made him terribly homesick.

 _Not that I have any right to be homesick_ , he thought, bitterness sitting on the back of his tongue.

Holding his hand out in front of him, Hyunjin traced with his eyes the lines of his palm. Divots, veins, hills—all of them contained within such a small body part. Humans were fascinating, if not irritating in their fragility. He worried how long he would be able to keep up this façade.

That is, if his curse didn’t overtake him before he was found out.

Before he could slip too far into his reverie, the coach screeched to a stop, and Hyunjin was left to wonder just how well-kept the thing was considering it was meant to house a prince.

Then again, his father had essentially told him to go die; what did it matter if it was a beast’s wrath or a road accident?

Hyunjin didn’t bother to speak to the driver as he leapt out of the coach. Chilly air hit him unexpectedly, and he decided that he would sit in front of the castle’s fireplace, even if it meant killing whoever stood in his way to do so.

The castle itself was a menacing thing, poised like claws jutting out from the earth with warped towers and unmanicured sides. The vines seemed to be holding up what remained of the castle’s structure, a mess of drained blue-greens and murky greys. With the moon held between its palms, Hyunjin was reminded more of his home than he had any right to be.

He couldn’t tell his footsteps from the sound of creaking stone as he walked into the front foyer, and yet neither was enough to drown out the warning bells going off in his mind.

Living in a realm of shadows and deceit had allowed him to intimately learn the feeling of eyes pinned to his back. Right now, he knew that someone was staring at him, likely planning his death. With any luck, it was the beast-prince.

What he did not expect: tens of little eyes approaching him from the darkness, each of them insidious shades of red and yellow.

“A _guest!”_ a tinny voice warbled, like spluttering flame. It was all Hyunjin could do to not wince at the sound.

“A guest, a guest! Oh, how long is it been since we’ve had a guest?” This voice was lower, less grating, though just as off-putting.

“Do you think this one tastes sweet?” sighed another in a voice of shattered china. “I loathe the bitter ones. They always scream so _loudly._ ”

Whispers rose up around him like smoke— _A guest a guest a guestaguestaGUEST!_ —until Hyunjin had to bring a delicate hand up to his ear and gently rub at it. The blacked-out room was shifting around him, a quivering tide of quiet voices.

“Won’t you be our guest, prince of shadow and spite? Won’t you, won’t you? I promise we’ll make something good out of you! His Highness won’t eat you . . .”

Hyunjin waited on the end of the sentence, leaning into the darkness. Those _things_ were still whispering, still calling him their guest . . . .

Jaws of sparking metal flew into his vision with a shrieking cackle, searing in their heat— _terrifying,_ no matter how Hyunjin hated to admit it. “. . . but I swear on my candles we’ll _savour you_.”

Hyunjin was born in a hell, knew plumes of smoke better than spring air, and yet not even his childhood could have prepared him for this.

At his left, the darkness rippled, stealing his attention away from the horrid creature of metal and fire before him. Hyunjin didn’t care for safety or logic as he spun on his heel to stride towards the ripple—and lied to himself when he said it had nothing to do with getting away form that _thing._

“You’re stupid, for coming here.”

This voice was hardly pleasant by any means, but it was so undoubtedly _human_ that Hyunjin felt himself gain back a little bit of control. “Care to take me to your prince?”

A snarl broke out from the same place as the voice, a touch animalistic and very well-practiced. _Not quite human_ , Hyunjin thought. “The _prince_ ,” the shadow spat, “is dead.”

Hyunjin, prince of demons and breaker of boundaries between worlds, felt his body dissolve into a shiver for one horrid moment.

A rough warmth slithered up his leg. He looked down to see the rug he’d just walked over, moth-eaten and smelling of rot as it constricted his leg. Glowing red eyes peered up at him, like rubies held up to the Blood Moon’s light. He was almost fascinated with it, before his body began to light up in sparks of panic. Pricks of pain bloomed under the woven fabric. His heart began racing. It didn’t take long for Hyunjin to realize his skin was starting to bleed—

And that this cursed rug was the one wounding him.

He didn’t recognize his hand going up in flames, but he was perfectly at peace with bringing the little embers of magic in his hands down to the rug at his leg.

“ _NO!”_

His skull cracked against the grime-covered marble floors, rug gone from his leg and a crushing weight at his hips. Every ounce of air from his lungs had been stolen, leaving him heaving and lightheaded. He didn’t think twice before pressing his hand, still encased in flame, to the chest of whatever had tackled him. The roar let out as a result was raw this time, jagged and wounded and _furious_.

Perhaps a little belatedly, Hyunjin realized he wouldn’t have to go very far at all to find the beast-prince.

“When my father told me of the beast that lived in the prince’s stead,” Hyunjin started in a roughened voice, “I didn’t think it was because he’d taken up cursed furniture as company.”

“Why are you here?” asked the prince. “Why? I’ve made no move against your kingdom. You’ve no right to be here.”

“I’ve come as an offer of peace. All I ask is to be able to sleep in one of your rooms without the promise of death looming over my head.”

The wind was just as furious as the beast-prince, banging its fists against the unkempt windows high up on the walls of the foyer. There was not an inch of his thoughts that was not covered in the aimless noise of this place, whether it was the hissing of the creatures, the rugged breaths of the beast-prince, or the untameable wind just outside these walls. There was no place to which he could retreat, if just for a moment of peace.

But peace was not what he had come for.

He’d come for solutions.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” continued the beast-prince, “or who you think you are for asking such a thing, but you must leave.”

“No one will attack you if they know there’s a prince in your possession.” Hyunjin cocked his head. “My father will send word to my people of my safe arrival here, and they will have no need to fear you. You, just as I, will have a moment of _quiet_. To gather yourself. Or whatever it is you do in this beaten-down castle of yours.” Looking around, Hyunjin noted how unhinged everything was, from the décor to the seething monarch sat in the middle of it. “This,” he said around a large inhale, “is familiar territory for me.”

He did not anticipate the beast-prince’s hand wrapped around his neck, nor his head cracking against stone _again_ , but he perhaps should have.

He had to notice that the grip pinning his neck to the wall was not tight in the slightest. Just firm. Secure.

Defensive.

“This is my home. _Get out._ ”

“It won’t be yours for long if you don’t play by my rules.”

He also had to notice how violently the beast-prince flinched at that. At the idea of losing his home.

What an odd creature.

“What does that mean?” the beast-prince whispered. _Terrified_.

“My father is going to steal this land from you whether you give it up or not. But if you let me stay, and if you aid me in my search, perhaps I can help you protect this place.” He had no qualms about the card he played next. “I can help you protect your mother’s land.”

The beast-prince pushed him harder against the wall, though his grip still did not tighten. It was the impossibility in understanding his motives that made Hyunjin’s jaw twitch in annoyance. “How dare you speak of her.”

“Your Highness,” cried the voice of shards, “ _kill him!_ He’s overstayed his welcome!”

 _Kill him, kill him, kill him!_ Whispers upon whispers upon _whispers_ —his head was filled to the brim, overflowing in white-hot pain and memories.

This was not the first time he’d been in such a position.

_Kill him! Kill him! Traitor, traitor, kill him!_

_No,_ his true father had said, _I don’t think I will. I think there is a much worse price to pay for something like him_.

And there had been; there still was. He simply had to find a way to pay it out in spades before he was left in debt.

“Are you a spy?”

“He won’t _answer you!”_ the deep voice bellowed. Hyunjin recognized the awful tinge to it, the very thing that had made him shudder upon first hearing it: it was like the unwinding of a spring, snapping and reverberating in the walls of his skull. “Why won’t you kill him, Your Highness? He’ll taint your mother’s kingdom, your father’s greatest love! He’ll ruin your home!”

Still, the beast-prince did not choke him out. Did not hurt him any more than he already had. The wind reached a crescendo, shattering one of the filthy windows. Moonlight streamed in as if let through a broken dam. The beast-prince was thrown into heavily drawn shadows and glowing peaks—

And he was _gorgeous_.

Scars marred his brow and lip, adding stark lines atop the ones that existed in his stern expression. They resembled veins of moonlight, like this, shimmering as diamond dust would. As his face gave way to a brief brush of shock, Hyunjin saw flickers of knife-sharp teeth.

More stunning still were his _eyes_ ; one was streaked with amber along the edge while the other was pure hickory, rich and cool-looking in the night’s light.

Was this truly the beast everyone was terrified of?

A name for this man niggled at the back of his mind, yet for the life of him Hyunjin could not fit it into his mouth.

“You’re Prince Hyunjin,” said the beast-prince, as if to remind himself. “Last in line for Tul’s throne.”

“Not as if I needed to be reminded,” Hyunjin said slowly.

“So what’s to say you’re not here to take my crown from my head?” The beast-prince did put a little bit of pressure into his hold now, but only at the sides. Still no lasting damage. _How infuriating_. “You must be desperate to have a kingdom of your own.”

“I’m desperate for _answers_ ,” Hyunjin corrected, “and here is where I’m likely to find them. My father will not move in on your territory so long as he believes I’m in the process of prying your kingdom from your clawed hands.”

There was still reluctance in the beast-prince’s eyes. _Alright_ , Hyunjin thought _, let’s go about this another way_. “If you have even a stitch of reason to believe I’ve betrayed you or your home, you can still kill me.”

“And then your father will be after my head,” the beast-prince quipped. “I cannot leave this land unprotected.”

“Isn’t that all the more reason to help me out?”

Nothing.

“ _Prince Changbin,_ ” Hyunjin said through his teeth, shocked at his remembering of the prince’s name, “neither of us wants to see my father succeed. I don’t want him to use me as a trading tool, and you don’t want him to trample through your mother’s decrepit rose garden. If you let me stay here for three weeks—and all I ask of you is three—then I will make sure he does not live long enough to consider breaking your mother’s kingdom for another moment.”

With that, Changbin released him, stepping back into the shadows and depriving Hyunjin of another second of staring. It was hard _not_ to stare when stoically carved eyes sat against arched brows and jaw.

“A month,” Changbin answered quietly. “That is all you get.” To the rest of the blackness around them, he said, “None of you are to harm the young prince. If I hear of it, you’re to be locked up in the dungeon.”

Before the beast-prince could depart up the darkened stairs, he called, “If you don’t have to, don’t kill your father. Nothing is harder to absolve yourself of than family’s blood.”

“Sometimes,” Hyunjin said equally severely, “that is the blood that must be spilled.”

“I can only hope you never learn how wrong you are.”

Hyunjin was left in a choking silence after that. No whispers, no chittering, no scraping. _Nothingness_. It was worse—leagues, _worlds_ worse—than the noise had been, but he had accomplished what he’d come here to do: he’d solidified a place in the castle of the beast, and for a whole month, no less.

Now all he had to do was lift the curse before his slumber overtook him.

In three weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [curious cat!](https://curiouscat.qa/ahgaslayy)
> 
> [twitter!](https://twitter.com/svnsmayday)


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